Behind Barred Glass
by BrokenPhrases
Summary: Kohoha Mental Istitute, a hospital for the criminally insane. Behind the metal bars blocking the windows there is a story. A story of a broken girl who dreams of getting out, and the red haired man who just might make life worth living. GaaraxSakura


"How are you feeling, Sakura?"

The voice is soft, comforting, lulling me out of my sleep and into the daze of awakening. It is a familiar voice; the voice of one of the nurses that usually tends to me.

I can't remember her name.

A cold hand on my forehead causes my eyes to slowly start opening, taking in the blurry sights until the daze starts to wear off. Everything is bright, in a dull sort of way. There is light creeping in through the window, making my eyes water slightly, but the whiteness of the ceiling and walls dulls the sting, the smell of disinfectant pulling me even further out of my daze. It is not a soothing smell, but it is familiar. It is just like the scratchy blanket above me, the rumpled sheets beneath me; the foam mattress beneath us all. I want to stay like this, laying on this soft bed, with this woman's cold hand on my warm skin…

"The fever seems to have gone down," the nurse says with relief, pulling her hand away. Instead, she uses it to reach for the clipboard on the metal bed frame by my feet. "We had quite the scare with you. You collapsed all of the sudden. We were worried."

She's giving me a reassuring smile, I can hear it in her voice, but I am looking at the ceiling; the dull white ceiling. It is much nicer to look at than her lies.

It's incredibly cruel isn't it, telling someone you care for them when you don't?

It's so terribly cruel…

All of them… they're all liars.

I want to leave this place.

"You've been unconscious for over five hours. You missed supper. I'll go get you something to eat, how does that sound?"

"I'm not hungry."

She freezes, a small hiccup coming out of her mouth at my words. She didn't expect me to answer. I don't blame her. I haven't spoken to them in over thirty days. I didn't have anything to say to them. I didn't feel like talking. Is that wrong?

"You're body is in need of nutrients," she says after regaining herself, the clipboard being placed on the metal desk built into the wall with a small "_Clink_". "It's still recovering from your fever. You need to eat."

"I'm not hungry," I repeat, an edge to my voice.

It's annoying having to repeat myself. If I don't want to eat, I don't eat. If I don't want to talk, I don't talk. People like them… People like them…

"I-I understand. You're not hungry," she stutters as an answer, taking a few cautious steps forward and pressing the red buzzer hidden beneath the desk. "What would you like then?"

My head turns, my eyes looking emotionlessly at the light seeping in through the window. It's a good day today. There's sunlight, and it is warm. I can almost feel it on my skin; its warmth.

I bet the flowers are blooming in the garden today…

"I want to leave now."

"But you still have a fe-"

My wrists tense, the sensitive skin aching as it's met by a barrier of invincible steel, yet it shuts the nurse up almost instantly, cutting off her sentence before she can finish it.

She's panicking.

"You'll have to wait just a little longer. A guard is coming, so it won't be too much longer."

But not too much longer is much too long for me.

My wrists adjust slightly, the metal of the restraints cutting into the skin now, leaving red imprints against the flesh. They're not bleeding, they only sting, and already the metal of the handcuffs is beginning to creak…

Terrified that the restraints will break again this time, the nurse lets out a fearful shriek. "Sakura! Stop!"

"_Sakura_," a forceful voice calls.

I stop my movements, allowing my wrists relaxation from their work. Innocently, my head lolls toward the open door where she's standing. My caretaker, my guidance councilor, my captor…

"Tsunade," I breathe. Why is Tsunade here?

"It's alright Mizuru," the blonde woman declares to the nurse. The nurse, Mizuru, gives a big sigh of relief, the scent of fear in the air disappearing.

She's always had that effect… Tsunade has. Forceful, intelligent, calming, fear inspiring… A world renowned medical psychologist and a woman who overcame alcoholism all on her own. A woman not afraid of inflicting her monstrous strength onto any man that dares stare at her overly large anatomy for too long.

Whenever I imagine myself having a mother, I think of her.

"What were you doing Sakura," she asks, her arms crossed, an eyebrow lifting in a strict way that means she wants an answer from me. She already knows the reason the buzzer was pressed, knowing I was the only one in the infirmary. She knew because she immediately glared at the handcuffs the moment she stepped into the room.

I could feel her eyes.

"You're not a guard," I remind, wondering where Zabuza was. I don't particularly care, but I don't want to have to face Tsunade today. I don't feel like it.

"Don't change the subject, Sakura," she growls, that threatening edge to her voice even more warning-like than mine had been. She isn't effected at all by the fact that I'm speaking again. "What were you doing?"

"I wanted to leave," I state simply, my eyes once again returning to the white ceiling, not wanting to see the expression on Tsunade's face this time. Staring at the ceiling doesn't save my ears from the crashingly loud sound of her fists slamming down on the second metal desk built into the wall, not doubt bending the metal under her strength.

"You know you can't leave on your own, Sakura! There are rules!" she snaps. "Rules apply to everyone, Sakura, and everyone includes you!" The blonde medic sighs now, a deep and tired sigh. She's been doing so many more of those lately… "Sakura," she says more calmly. She always says my name when she's angry, and she always says my name when she's tired. I feel I am the cause of both of them every single time. "You know all patients of the Advanced Ward must be accompanied by a guard at all times. Trying to leave without a guard, scaring Mizuru, nearly breaking more of the facility's property… I thought you knew better than this! I don't want to have to punish you, but you aren't exempt just because you're Sakura Haruno. What made you act this way!?"

My eyes wander to the window again, my long pink hair falling across my face as my head turns. Just outside that window… just beyond those bars…

"The garden…"

I can hear her expression fall. It is almost sad the difference two words from me can do. "I'm sorry, Sakura, but you know the rules," she says soothingly, walking over to my bedside and pulling out the key for the cuffs from her uniform's pocket. "The events from Wednesday are still punishable through Friday. All of your outside activities are suspended, that was the consequence of your actions."

The cuffs open with a small _Click_, my wrists falling to my sides in the release. I stare at them somewhat detached.

The skin is grazed.

"Come on," Tsunade calls, walking toward the open door, "Free Time starts in a few minutes. I'm sure if you hurry the seat by the widow will still be open. I'll grab you an apple from the cafeteria."

"I'd like that," I answer, following close behind.

* * *

_Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places. Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand._

I have never considered myself religious. I have never believed, I have never worshiped, and I have never confessed my sins to a priest. If God exists, I have no interest in him, and he has no interest in me. He does not speak to me, and I do not speak to him. Yet the leather-bound Bible in my hands is a comfort. The pages smell of old libraries and the paper feels thin and delicate, like feathers.

It is the one thing about this place that is soothing.

Some of the phrases within this Book are true to me. Some of them are inspiring, some of them are damning, and others still are only honest. Many of the books from the outside world are banned here; they stir too many of our inner monsters. Yet the Bible, with its words speaking of devils, demons, hell, and murder, is allowed. Perhaps they wish to have us seek salvation; as though that would change who we are.

We are rapists. We are torturers. We are murderers. We are sinners.

We have no need for God.

We are Godless.

There is no fear of Hell among us; we live in it.

I close the Book, no longer interested in its words, and place it next to my on the ledge I sit upon, instead choosing to abide my time by looking out the window.

The sky has become dark, gray where light once shone gold, clouds vast and thick where blue emptiness seemed to stretch on forever.

It will rain soon.

My forehead presses against the window, a gold numbing sensation coursing through my body. A strangeness caused by my barrier of glass; my cage.

This is the one place in the whole of the building where I can look to the outside world without bars. The view is terrible, the great wall that locks us all in getting in the way of the outside world, but the garden is in perfect view from here. It's the one place with color. The one place that has full access to the light…

I once dreamt of jumping out this window. I flew for a few moments, the wind caressing me like no one else has, my long hair flying around my face in the descent. This window is on the eight floor, the top floor of the building. I fell effortlessly and comfortably for the total of the fall, my body crashing on the soiled earth below, my bones crushing, my skull breaking open, my blood spilling in an overflow, feeding the flowers…

But it will never happen, no matter how much I dream for it, no matter how much I wish.

It is bulletproof glass. Not even I could shatter it.

God knows I tried. God knows I want to.

But God does not reside here. Not in this place.

Behind me, within these walled rooms, I hear them. Those that plan of murder, those that plan of suicide, those that plan of nothing, those that only dream. This room always smells of blood, faint though it is, it is there. There can only be so many of us in this room at one time before fights break out. There can only be so many of us in this room at one time until one of us dies.

One of us always dies.

Are we even living to begin with? Living within this cage? Is this even life? Do we even exist? I want to feel alive…

"GET THE FUCK OFF ME!"

The sound of breaking bones, the sent of pulsing blood emitting from a deep wound…

I turn, along with all the others in the room, toward the new comers. There are many of them, what appears to be nearly all the guards, surrounding and trying to restrain one person. I cannot see him, for the voice belonged to a male and the guards are in my line of sight, but he is strong. The guards are taken down like insects, more blood pulsating into the room, more broken bones, screams this time as pain becomes unbearable. The few remaining that are still able to stand begin to pull out their syringes.

A loud feline-like hiss makes its way out of my mouth at the sight, my body pressing against the bulletproof glass of the window in defense, hoping this time it would break so I could escape from the fluids hidden inside the needles…

But the guards never get any time to use their new weapons, for the person they are trying to restrain moves too quickly.

And then they all fall.

They all fall but one man.

For a moment, my breath is caught in my throat, for I have never seen this man before. I would surely have remembered him; a man with hair as red as blood, a man with pale jade eyes. A man who wants to kill more than any other man I have ever known.

The guards are dead, a few of them anyway. Some more will be savable if medics arrive on the scene quickly, but the red haired man is desperate for an escape.

He hates this place just as much as I do.

His eyes lock on mine, his face unreadable but his eyes bloodthirsty. They flicker slightly, and then he bolts toward me, his speed ridiculous for someone who had been bombarded with so many guards, and then he's on me.

With a grip so strong I feel I might break, a hand encircles my neck, squeezing out the life, blocking off the air. I feel my eyelids flutter in pain, blotches of red and white dancing across the black of my vision. I hear thudding, the other hand trying to break out the window behind me in order for him to escape. It doesn't give, the invincibleness of it too strong for him. His hand gets tighter in anger, whether he knows it or not, but I don't struggle for I am happy.

I'm going to die.

I have never believed in suicide. There was never any reason, not fear, cowardice, spiritual morality, or some sort of code. I just never thought of killing myself. Marring myself, cutting myself, bleeding myself… yes. But I would never kill myself. Never.

Yet how I have wanted to die. To be free of this place, to be free of this life… the things I've done. Everyday I wake up, wondering why I continue to exist; to live. It is despicable that someone such as me should get to live and breathe.

And here it has come.

The end of me.

He's beautiful, the man that's going to kill me. His eyes are lined in a deep black, his jaw defined and set, his muscles tense and strong as he adds more pressure to his grip, causing everything to go numb and slack.

Very soon now…

Realizing the window isn't going to break no matter how much he hits it, he turns around to look behind him; whether for oncoming guards or another escape route I don't know. All I know is that his grip slackens as he moves, air rushing into my lungs. My senses returning quickly, life returning quickly…

"Are… you going to kill me?" I ask, my voice breaking in pain at the sensation of air rushing down the aching flesh.

The red haired man snaps his head to look at me, his eyes glaring, defiant, yet somewhat surprised.

He looks at me, his eyes wandering everywhere. My long pink hair, hair that dances lightly across the skin of his hand, my emerald eyes, eyes that stare into his own without fear. They travel down, taking in my form, the size of my breasts, my waist, my hips, and then they're on my eyes again, locked and unwavering for what seems like the longest of time.

And then for some reason he answers "No", his voice firm and monotone, his grip completely slackening, letting me go.

I'm shocked.

"Why not?" My voice is not like I have ever heard it, vulnerable and confused. Why didn't he kill me? I wanted to die! I was waiting for him to kill me! To end me! I WANTED TO DIE!

"WHY NOT!?" I scream, my hand flashing out before I can even think about what my body is doing, and then my fist collides with his jaw, causing his head to whiplash to the side, as though broken.

But it is not.

Jade eyes whip back to send me a glare of murderous-intent just as quickly as they had been sent away, and then again, he attacks.

Fangs like that of a wolf, his teeth embed themselves deep into my flesh. The skin on my shoulder tears away easily, the warm blood dripping down my back and arm like honey. I gasp in pain, letting out a small wince like moan as he digs even deeper into my body. His arms pull me closer, the wound growing bigger as he does. And in this moment of devouring, a strange connection is within us. He is feasting on my blood, his own body aroused at the metallic taste and pressing into my leg, and I am delighting in the claiming end he promises to bring. It is a searing pain I have never experienced before; a human mouth ripping at the flesh…

It is nice.

After feeling only needles enter me, this immense pain is a relief. The side-effects are nonexistent, instead there is only peace.

My hands reach up, running softly through his hair as he drinks, my eyes closing softly.

This isn't a bad way to die.

And then he's ripped away, a piece of my meat being pulled away with him.

I scream, a loud yelping hiss as the chunk is removed, only to watch in horror as a needle pierces the exposed flesh of the red haired man. My body starts to shake, watching as the liquids are released into his system. He fights, he fights hard against the hold he has been locked in, but it is no use. The drug takes effect and soon he is only able to snap at the world with his blood painted fangs, until even that is impossible.

He collapses.

Effortlessly, the limp body is caught by the strong muscles of the other murderous man before me. His eyes are piercing, looking straight at me. His overwhelming aura causes me to collapse on the floor in an attack of trembling, for there is another syringe in his pocket, and all he needs to do is reach in and grip it… I can't move, my body knowing what's coming. The humiliating, terrifying thing that's coming.

But the man does not grab for the syringe. Instead, he throws the unconscious red haired man's body over his shoulder and turns around.

Without a word, Zabuza Momichi walks away.

* * *

The tears fall, they pour down my face without restraint. The pain from my shoulder is unbearable, my hand pressing tightly against the wound to stop the blood, the pale of my skin painted black as it dries, but it is unimportant.

I can't breathe.

For no reason, with no opposing force, I cannot breathe.

There's pain filled gasps, wheezing, but not enough air is coming into my lungs, if there's any air at all. My body leans forward, trying to breathe the air closer to the ground as though it might help.

But all I can think about is the syringe. Zabuza injected the new comer without warning. He didn't even threaten. He just… He just…

Oh God. Oh God! OH GOD!

Breathe, breathe, just breathe. Focus on the lungs. Breathe in, take in air, TAKE IN AIR!

As though it might help me, I reach for the Bible that had fallen to the ground during the assault. My fingers scrape the leather, bringing it toward me inch by inch until I have it within a proper grip. Flipping the book open desperately, I wait for the calming emotion from earlier to wash over me.

It doesn't come, for my eyes have caught a passage within the words that so shock me that I can feel my lungs take in a full breath of air in surprise.

**1 Peter 5:8- **_Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil walks about like a roaring lion seeking whom he may devour._

But to which devil are they referring to? The red haired man who tore at my flesh, or Zabuza Momochi, the most monstrous man in the ward!?

Mind buzzing with lack of oxygen and blood, my dizziness from earlier comes back, the daze even worse. Already the fever is back, the temperature even higher than before.

And then comes the darkness, the closest to death I will ever get.


End file.
